


the skyline look like crooked teeth

by Mychelle_Wilmot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Conversations, Episode Related, Episode: s02e08 Su-zakana, Gen, Interlude, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mychelle_Wilmot/pseuds/Mychelle_Wilmot
Summary: If anything, Will was congratulating himself for his self control - he managed to hide the fury he felt quite well. He didn’t scream and he didn’t make more accusations; he didn’t put a bullet into Ingram’s brain as soon as he was out of the interrogation room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Su-zakana (2x08), before the final scene. Unbeta’d.

* * *

 

*

            Despite being closed for the most part of the day and despite the freezing weather outside, Hannibal’s office was warm when Hannibal led Will inside, his cheeks and his still gloved hands instantly feeling the difference of temperature.

            The office was set in darkness - it was still early but the sun was already set. There were dark shadows casted into every corner of the room, giving the ambient an even more gloomy appearance than normal. Will found his usual seat by navigating the darkness with only his memory as a guide, but soon enough Hannibal turned on the lights, forcing the darkest shadows in the room to hide.

            “I was surprised when you accepted my invitation of coming back with me, Will.”

            Will didn’t answer immediately – he took his time by taking off his gloves and getting more comfortable in the seat.

            The coat he kept – he still wasn’t sure how long he would remain there.

            Hannibal also sat down into his usual position, staring unabashedly at Will as he always did, always trying to dissect his thoughts and emotions just by looking at him.

            “And yet, you invited me all the same.”

            “I hoped you would accept.”

            Will tilted his head, but kept his silence; if Hannibal wanted him to talk, he would have to ask for it directly, no metaphors and insinuations allowed.

            “You seemed to be very upset after Clark Ingram’s interrogation.”

            “I was upset at the fact that he got to walk away as a free, guiltless man.”

            It was Hannibal’s turn to remain in silence; the way he scrutinized Will now was not unlike the way he had looked at him when they were observing Alana interrogating Clark Ingram.

            Despite Hannibal clearly seeing Will’s anger at seeing Ingram’s walking away free, Will knew he had managed to hide how actually furious he felt at seeing that smug face being released. The lack of heavy stares by Alana and Jack were enough to make him certain of his discretion - none of them bothered treating him with kid gloves anymore, not as they used to.

            No, he managed to hide the fury he felt quite well. He didn’t scream and he didn’t make more accusations; he didn’t put a bullet into Ingram’s brain as soon as he was out of the interrogation room.

            If anything, Will was congratulating himself for his self control. It seemed that one of Hannibal’s habits was rubbing off on him, and at least was a useful one at that.

            “Peter Bernardone is innocent of everything that Clark Ingram insinuated he was guilty of.”

            “The injustice of Peter Bernardone’s situation is intolerable to you.”

            “The fact that his tormentor gets to walk free while pointing an accusing finger at Peter is intolerable to me.”

            “Your gift always made it possible for you to feel the righteousness of a killing, or the hopelessness of an innocent victim, and I would think it would be even more intense in a case like this one.”

            Will smiled – it was a bitter, spiteful gesture.

            “I don’t need my empathy or my imagination to know what it feels like to be Peter Bernardone, not when just a few weeks ago I was wearing the same pair of shoes that he is currently wearing.”

            Hannibal’s reaction was minimal, as it usually was; he only cocked his head and leaned forwards, bodily demonstrating that all of his focus was on Will.

            “You know what it’s like to stand hopeless while you are accused of crimes that you know you didn’t commit.”

            Will nodded, suppressing a sigh. It was the truth, but not the most painful aspects of it.

            He knew what it was like to be betrayed by someone that you trusted. He knew what it was like to feel such a strong connection to someone and believe that you weren’t so alone after all, only to discover that it was all a lie. Only to have it ruthless taken from you.

            “In some ways, Peter is a reflection of you.”

            “Peter is what I could have been.”

            Hannibal leaned even more in his direction, his eyes staring at Will’s face with the intensity of a big cat just before the attack.

            “And what is that?”

            “Innocent. Untainted by the darkness surrounding him.”

            Hannibal only nodded at this statement; another person might point out that putting a dead woman inside of a dead horse wasn’t exactly an innocent action, but both he and Hannibal knew better than that.

            “You see in Peter the chance of doing the justice that was denied to you.”

            “I see in Peter the chance of saving someone that is still good,” Will corrected “Before he snaps. Before is too late.”

            It was only a matter of time; Peter was going to snap. The dramatic, almost theatrical act he staged with Sarah’s death was the action of a man nearing his breaking point, and the chance of Peter taking a more drastic action increased by minute.

            “I would assume that this too late will come far too soon. I doubt Ingram liked to see the FBI scrutinizing him, and I doubt that a man like him would let such a dangerous affront go without retaliation.”

            Will sighed, having a far too clear mental picture of what Hannibal was saying.

            “Peter put him under a spotlight, and now he will want to make him pay for it.”

            “You play, you pay,” Hannibal had a minimal, almost imperceptible smirk in his lips “Peter played his hand with you and the FBI. It failed. Now it will be Ingram’s turn to move the pieces.”

            Hannibal seemed almost excited with the idea. And really, why wouldn’t he be? Games, pieces, turn of a hand, it was all under his area of expertise. For Hannibal and his preferences for dramatics, this case was a wrapped gift.

            “You would know all about actions and consequences wouldn’t you, Doctor?”

            His own words caught Will by surprise, but Hannibal seemed to expect it. He even smiled more openly now, satisfied that Will so soon made the turn of the conversation so explicitly about them.

            They were always talking about themselves, Hannibal and him; they used metaphors and other people casted in their roles, but it was all about them in a way or another, words said with euphemisms or direct statements, direct gestures or actions by proxy.

            “I would beg to differ. It was you who promised me a reckoning, Will.”

            Will shrugged.

            “Some might say that I already delivered it. Proxy or not, my intentions were very clear.”

            Hannibal smirked a little – he now had the annoying expression of the cat that ate the canary, and Will hated how often he wore that expression, and how often he was right when he wore it.

            “Some do not truly know you, Will. While I appreciate the intention, I know the reckoning you spoke about was personal. It was nothing to be delivered by the blade of a third party; it will require intimacy and personal participation.”

            Will furrowed his brows, fighting the urge to avoid Hannibal’s eyes. He wasn’t surprised because Hannibal was right, but he was surprised at how he managed to make murder sound even more illicit and decadent than it already was.

            “You never sound worried when I speak about my urges of killing you, Doctor Lecter. Are you that confident in your abilities, or are you just confident enough in my lack of them? Or do you simply have a death wish?”

            Hannibal briefly narrowed his eyes at the callous question, a momentary lapse in his stoic mask.

            “None of the options, I’m afraid. I am fully confident in your abilities Will, and while I’m unconcerned about my own death, I have no desire to terminate my own life by any means.”

            Hannibal’s voice carried a note of boredom and something that sounded like disappointment, and Will swallowed the bitter taste building up inside his mouth; he had no business feeling bad for disappointing Hannibal Lecter.

            “So, what is it? Do you just like to observe my impulses and reactions that much?”

            Hannibal’s expression seemed pleased this time, even if he barely moved a muscle.

            “Observing your becoming so closely is a privilege, Will. Every unexpected action, every turn that your decisions take. You are refreshing to me, much more than my expectations of you.”

            Will had the impulse to stand up and pace around the office, to do anything to within his power to run away from the intensity of Hannibal’s stare, but he forced himself to remain still - it wouldn’t do to abandon his position when the conversation was in such a critical place.

            “I wonder how far your predisposition to help me become who you perceive me to be would go. Would you let me kill you if it was the last stage of my transformation?”        

            “I might.”

            Will raised his eyebrows in utterly disbelief, but remained quiet, waiting for Hannibal to elaborate.

            “I might, if it was what would take you to your final stage of evolution. But I don’t believe it would be good for you.”

            “Of course you don’t.”

            “Maybe for a short period of time it would be good, when you would feel avenged with the strength of your reckoning.”

            “Free of your influence.”

            “But as the time passed, you would be left alone as a newborn creature in a world full of people incapable of understanding your nature and your impulses.”

            “Afraid of condemning to solitude, Doctor?”

            Will could almost see the shadow of a smile in Hannibal’s face, a physical manifestation of his pleasure with the topic of conversation.

            “It is not something I would wish upon you, no.”

            “I’m used to loneliness.”

            “Not of this kind, you are not.”

            Will glared at Hannibal for a few seconds, but he found himself deflecting sooner than he would have liked - he hated the matter of fact tone in Hannibal’s voice, the confidence in his words. Hated that he was right; that it would be foolish to believe that Hannibal’s death would put to rest all the demons that the man had awakened inside him.

            Sometimes he wanted to put a gun against Hannibal once again and scream at the man, and demand answers from him, demand to know why him, why like this. Demand to know it clearly, without euphemisms and obfuscation, demand to know the ugly but simple truth.

            But it was a childish impulse, something that he would never do. It wouldn't do him any good, not when he knew that Hannibal would deny him. That was not how Hannibal played, and not even for him Hannibal would be willing to change the rules of the game. If Will wanted answers, he would have to play to get them.

            “I don’t want Peter to become anything he might regret,” Will said, in an attempt to take the focus of conversation away from them.

            “It may already be something out of your control, Will.”

            Will shook his head, not denying the truth, but his acceptance of it.

            “What do you think of Ingram?”

            “Textbook psychopath,” Will answered with a disinterested shrug “Intelligent enough to hunt without getting caught, cunning enough to so easily shift the responsibility to a vulnerable person who trusted him.”

            “Peter considered him a friend, someone he could rely on.”

            “But the reverse was never truth to Ingram. Peter was a good, useful tool for him to play and throw away when he stopped being useful.”

            “And after publicly accusing him of murder, I would say his patience with Peter is probably coming to an end.”

            Will didn’t answer that - there was no reason to state the obvious. He knew that Peter was in danger of being murdered, or of becoming a murderer or of going mad.

            Clark Ingram was truly a textbook psychopath, and Peter’s suffering would do absolutely nothing to him. It wouldn’t move him, it wouldn’t dissuade him of whatever plans he had. It would only be fuel for his wicked intentions.

            Thinking about Ingram like this made Will think about Hannibal; Peter might be a like a reflection of what happened to him, but Ingram also had his parallels with Hannibal. Both of them cunning, experienced in leaving no evidences of their crimes, both in positions of power that would give them plenty opportunity to prey in the weak.

            But even if their results were similar, their methods and views were radically different; Ingram was almost vulgar in how common he was, in how predicable he was once you saw his true colors. He had none of Hannibal’s complexity and flair for dramatics; there was no hidden meaning for his killings, none that mattered.

            For Ingram, Peter had been a golden opportunity, someone to blame for his crimes if they were ever discovered, as Will was sure he would do now - there was no feeling for him, it was not personal. At least with him, Hannibal had the decency to make the framing and his interest personal, to let very clear that Will was an unique player and not someone so easily replaced.

            Will snorted at himself, amused and disgusted at the direction of his thoughts. How pathetic it was that he actually felt comforted by the idea of being unique for Hannibal, of being a cherished toy instead of a cheap, disposable piece.

            Hannibal seemed curious at his reaction, a glint in his eyes emitting the silent question.

            “I want to see Peter again. Right now.”

            Hannibal seemed surprised by the statement, if only for a few moments. Even so, Will congratulated himself for provoking such a reaction while Hannibal looked at his watch, his mouth tightening a little when he saw the hour.

            “You will arrive there quite late. I wouldn’t like to see you arriving there alone at such an hour, Will, especially considering what you might find there.”

            “Are you inviting yourself to come along, Doctor?”          

            “If you would have me, yes.”

            Will debated the idea with himself only for a few moments. Earlier with Jack he saw that, without a doubt, the law wouldn’t be in Peter’s side. Warning Jack or asking for backup in nothing more than a hunch was not an option – he was sure he would be denied. He wasn’t FBI anymore; he wasn’t even an academy instructor anymore.

            But Hannibal’s presence could be of use depending of what they found there, even if Will didn’t want to ponder his justification for these thoughts for too long. If nothing else, Hannibal was the only backup he could afford to have in such short notice.

            The bitter taste of irony was not lost on Will, but he swallowed it and looked at Hannibal once again.

            “Alright, then. Lead the way, doctor.”

            As they once again left the warmth of the office for the chilling cold outside, Will tried to think about Peter and about what he could do to help the man, and not about how comfortable and at home he felt amongst the dark shadows of Hannibal Lecter’s domain.

**Author's Note:**

> Look... I don't even know? I was supposed to write a paper for a class today, but instead my brain was screaming at me to write Hannigram fanfiction. Blame it on my Hannibal rewatch.
> 
> I'm always terrible with titles but I was listening to a lot of Death Cab For Cutie when I wrote it, so the title comes from the song Crooked Teeth.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are always welcome and desired, and if you want, [come and say hi to me on tumblr](http://v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e.tumblr.com).


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